From Abandoned Wife to Ruthless Queen

The line went dead—but I already knew what he meant.

Evelyn’s cycle. Naturally. He never once remembered mine. Hers, though? I wouldn’t be surprised if it was circled neatly on his schedule, highlighted and color-coded.

I headed straight for his private library without a second thought. Third drawer from the right—exactly where he always kept her things. Imported pain relievers. Unscented organic pads. Bottles of herbal mixtures. Once, he had torn into a maid for moving them even an inch out of place.

I didn’t pause.

I gathered everything she could possibly need, threw on a coat, and went straight down to the garage. His motorcycle was still there—black, heavy, vicious-looking. Even before I started it, the engine seemed to growl. It was the quickest way to reach the Hexagon Club. If I left immediately, I could make it in twenty-five minutes.

The rain began halfway through the ride.

Not a drizzle. A downpour. Violent, blinding sheets that slammed into the road like shards of glass. The asphalt turned slick and reflective, lights stretching into distorted streaks. I could barely see ten meters ahead.

Then it happened.

Headlights veered suddenly into my lane.

A drunk driver—reckless, fast, out of control—missed me by inches. My heart lurched violently as the bike fishtailed across the road. I wrestled with the handlebars, my body nearly thrown free, somehow forcing the machine back under control at the last second.

I didn’t pull over.

I didn’t even ease up on the throttle.

By the time I arrived at the club’s private entrance, my legs were trembling uncontrollably. I was drenched through, aching, freezing to the bone—and two minutes late.

I lifted my hand to knock.

Then I stopped.

Soft laughter drifted through the door.

Her laughter.

“Boss, seriously?” someone said with amusement. “You really made your wife deliver all this in weather like that? From the house to here is, what—almost an hour?”

“Evelyn’s not feeling well,” Viktor replied flatly. “She’ll come.”

Another laugh followed. “Everyone knows your wife’s obsessed with you. Six years and she’s never once complained. Not even when you were out all night with someone else.”

Someone else chimed in, half-teasing, half-curious. “But honestly, Boss… she’s gorgeous. You really never felt anything for her?”

Silence fell.

No one spoke.

I stood there, soaked to the skin, shaking, my heartbeat pounding so loudly it filled my ears.

Then his voice cut through everything.

“No matter if it’s her or Evelyn,” he said calmly, without hesitation. “I’ll always pick Evelyn.”

I stayed outside until the laughter faded, until the moment felt distant enough to breathe. Then I knocked.

When I entered the private room, every gaze turned toward me—some startled, some amused, some openly assessing. I must have looked miserable, hair plastered to my face, clothes clinging unflatteringly, but I walked in anyway. Straight-backed. Composed.

“Damn, you’re punctual!”

“Isadora, you’re drenched,” Viktor said, standing from the couch with a scowl. “What the hell happened to you?”

I held out the small bundle in my hands. Somehow, it was still dry. “I didn’t want to keep you waiting, so I took your bike.”

I didn’t mention the near crash. He wouldn’t have believed me. Or cared.

Something flickered across his face. He shrugged off his jacket and placed it over my shoulders. “Wear that.”

Then, gesturing toward the package, he added, “Take it to the women’s restroom. Evelyn’s there.”

I nodded.

Of course I did.

Silent. Compliant. Just like always.

When I knocked on the bathroom door, her voice answered—soft, weak, trembling in that fragile way she perfected.

“Who’s there?”

“I brought what you need.”

There was a pause. Then the door opened just enough for a hand to reach out. I passed the bag through the narrow gap. She never once looked at me.

I went home after that. Changed out of my soaked clothes. Let hot water burn against my skin in the shower until my body stopped shaking. I had just drifted toward sleep when—

BANG.

The bedroom door slammed open.

Viktor stormed in, fury radiating from him, sharp and suffocating. He didn’t say a word. He simply seized my wrist and dragged me out of bed.

“GET UP.”

“W-What is it?” I gasped, stumbling as he pulled me down the hall. “Viktor—where are you taking me—”

I never finished.

He shoved me without warning.

I fell backward down the stairs. My head struck the edge of a step, pain exploding as my body tumbled helplessly. Warm blood filled my mouth.

When I finally landed at the bottom, the world spun violently. A shrill ringing filled my ears. My skull throbbed like it might split open.

I tried to push myself up, vision blurred. “Why… why are you doing this to me?”

He stood at the top of the staircase, looking down at me. “Did you shove Evelyn?”

My thoughts stalled. “W-what are you talking about?”

“Don’t pretend,” he snapped, descending slowly, each step deliberate. “You’ve been acting like the perfect wife all these years just to fool me. You think I wouldn’t see through that?”

“I didn’t—”

“Didn’t what?” he cut in sharply. “Did you think I finally fell in love with you?” He grabbed my chin, forcing my head up. “You were never anything but a replacement. A tool in a deal between two families. I don’t care what fantasies you clung to.” His voice dropped, cold and final. “I will never love you. Not now. Not ever.”

Blood slid down my temple as I stared at him. And for a fleeting second… I almost laughed.

He had it all wrong.

I never wanted his love. I never asked for it.

Before I could say a word, he hauled me to my feet by my arm.

“Get in the car.”